


A Love Story

by Singerme



Category: Gunsmoke
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singerme/pseuds/Singerme
Summary: "A love story?" The old woman questioned, staring at her college going granddaughter through thick-lensed glasses. "Well, I guess I could tell you one."
Relationships: Matt Dillon/Kitty Russell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

A Love Story

I don’t own these characters. I just love to spend time with them. No other profit to be had.

AN: This story is set about Season 11 and is pretty much AU. It also contains the death of a major character or two so be forewarned and don’t forget the Kleenex. However, I would ask that you not review or leave a comment on this until you finish the story. 

MKMKMKMKMKMKMKMKMKMKMK

“A love story?” The old woman questioned, staring at her college going granddaughter through thick-lensed glasses. Seldom did the child want to hear any of her stories or spend much time at all with her. “Well, I guess I could tell you one. But why?” She asked. “What brought this on?”

“Well, I… well…”

“You what?” The old woman asked. “What’s this about, Elizabeth?”

“Well, I have to write a story, for my creative writing class, and I want to write a romance. You know, one that’s all angsty and romantic and…”

“Oh.” The gray haired matriarch nodded in sudden understanding. “I know what you want. You want to hear about the Marshal and his lady.”

“Yeah!” Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically. “That’s it. Mom mentioned them once but she wouldn’t tell me too much about them. She said it was your story. But I got the impression it was a really good story.”

“It is.” The grandmother agreed. “But it’s not something to make light of and nothing to at all to make into some fictional story that doesn’t resemble the truth. I don’t mind telling you the story but if you try to make fun of the people involved or trivialize their pain, I’ll never tell you anything else. Do you understand, Elizabeth?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Elizabeth nodded solemnly. She knew her grandmother all too well and knew full well that she meant what she said. “I promise.”

The old woman studied her granddaughter’s face for a moment, until satisfied that the girl would keep her promise.   
“Alright then.” She sighed and sat back in her chair, letting her mind roam backwards in time to place and time very dear to her heart.

“Well, a long time ago, in a dusty little cow town called Dodge City, there was a man called Matt Dillon. He was a US Marshal assigned to Kansas and he made his headquarters in Dodge City. He was a tall man, he was. I believe he was somewhere around six foot seven or thereabouts. And he was strong as well. Strong as an ox, except for when it came to her. Not always, mind you, but usually, when it came to her, he lost all his strength.”

“Sounds like Grandpa with you.” Elizabeth smiled.

“Well, yes.” The old woman nodded. “I would agree. Those two definitely loved each other as much as your grandpa and I love each other. Of course, they lived completely different lives than we did. I mean, him being a marshal and her being a saloon owner is vastly different than us.”

“What was she like?” Elizabeth asked, as she dutifully took notes. “I mean, she must’ve really been something to run a saloon back in those days.”

“Well, she was something, alright.” The grandmother nodded. “As I recall, she was a little taller than most women of the time, about 5 foot 6 or 7. Somewhere around there. She had blue eyes, red hair, and a lot of freckles. I remember she hated those freckles. She kept em covered up for the most part. Of course, I don’t recall any one but her complaining about them. Most people in town liked her and some even respected her.”

“I bet the Marshal more than respected her, didn’t he?” Elizabeth asked. “I bet he loved her an awful lot.”

“He did.” The grandmother nodded with a soft smile. “Of course, he didn’t tell her that much, though. Or at least, he never told her that in public. Oh, I seem to recall that he’d tell her she was pretty ever so often, but he never told her she was beautiful. Of course, what he called her in private was probably something totally different.”

“Grandma? How do you know?” Elizabeth questioned. “I mean, sure, you were around then and probably saw everything that happened in public. But how do you know what happened between them in private?”

“I don’t really, Child.” The woman answered. “They were very private people. But I’ve always been studier of people and I studied those two quite often.” The elder woman paused for a moment, before continuing, as a smile crept across her face and she settled back in her chair, getting comfortable. “Those two were really something, child and you need to know something about both the Marshal and his Lady in order to do this story right.”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Dodge City was a different place back then. Wild in a lot of ways and yet settled some. There were a lot of good people in that town and a lot of bad. But the bad people, try as they might, never were able to completely take hold of the town and run it their way because of Marshal Dillon. He was a good man, brave, honest, trustworthy. You could count on him when you couldn’t count on anyone else. And he kept the law, the way it was supposed to kept. He was tough, I’ll tell you. But he was fair too. He gave everybody a fair shake.” 

“But he was more than that, wasn’t he?” Elizabeth prodded as she settled in to the story. 

“Yes. I think I told you; he was tall. But did I mention how handsome he was?”

“Only once or twice.” Elizabeth grinned. “Good thing Grandpa’s not the jealous type.”

The grandmother chuckled before continuing on. Yeah well, your grandpa aside, the Marshal was really good looking. Rugged, chiseled face with the most beautiful blue eyes. He didn’t necessarily have the charm of some of the dudes that came to town, but with looks and a body like his, he didn’t necessarily need it. Women were attracted to him all over the place and there were a lot of them that would’ve given anything to be his. But he usually paid them no mind. 

Oh, he was polite and all to them. And if they asked for his help, he seldom turned them down, but with very few exceptions, he didn’t usually give them a second glance. Not usually. There were a few that managed to get past his defenses, at least for a little while, but except for Kitty, none of them managed to get into his heart, like she did.”

“Well, if Kitty was as beautiful as I think she was, I could understand him not wanting anyone else.” Elizabeth stated. 

“Now, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Grandma shrugged. “But I will say this, she wasn’t ugly. She was smart. She learned how to use her looks and her brains to better herself. She owned the Long Branch saloon there in Dodge and made it into the best saloon west of the Mississippi. She bought into it when she was just a girl of 20 or 21 somewhere around there. She ran it with a partner for the first 4 or 5 years and bought him out and ran it alone.” 

“I would think that it would take a brave woman to do something like that.” Elizabeth noted. 

“I guess you could call it that.” The grandmother shrugged. “But I doubt she thought of it that way. She was doing what she had to do to in order to survive at first. Then it became a matter of thriving. And when she finally had her feet under her, she promised herself to help others. There really weren’t too many people in Dodge that she hadn’t helped out in one way or another. If she wasn’t donating to one charity or another, she was working as Old Doc Adams’ nurse or lending broke cowboys the money for a meal or a stake to something better.”

“Then she was really generous?” Elizabeth was still jotting down notes. 

“Let’s just say, she understood what it was like to have nothing and didn’t like to see other people that way.” The grandmother adjusted herself in the chair before continuing. “Now, together, the Marshal and his woman were quite a pair. But of course, they weren’t always together. You see; the Marshal was married. Or at least as close to married as a body could get to a piece of metal and an oath. Yes, that’s right, the Marshal was married to his job. He lived, breathed and slept that job. He was a really good lawman but it made him really lousy husband material.

Of course, that didn’t matter to Kitty Russell. At least, not too much, it didn’t. Because; Kitty Russell loved Matt Dillon. She gave him just about everything it was possible for her to give. If he wanted sex, she gave it to him. If he wanted a drink, she gave him that. If he wanted information on one of her patrons, she got it for him. There were times she risked her very life to keep him safe. But she never complained about things like that. She saw it as part of loving a man like him.

Of course, there were a few times she complained but not about what she did for him. No, she complained about what he didn’t do for her. And what he didn’t do was… Well, in some ways it was a lot and in some ways, it didn’t matter in comparison to what he did do. Guess, it depended on how she felt about things on any given day.

Most days, I guess, she didn’t feel it mattered that he wouldn’t marry her. Or that he wouldn’t tell anybody, other than her, that he loved her. And I guess, it wasn’t too important that he was seldom there to escort her to various dances and social events around town or attend private picnics or birthday parties. And I’m pretty sure, she was able to shrug it off, most of the time, when he’d get up in the middle of a meal and leave her sitting there alone while he ran off to do the law’s business.

But there were a few times, when her quota for such generosity of spirit had reached its limit and she just couldn’t take it anymore. I know she left him a few times, swearing she was done with him, because of that badge. But she always came back. And I know there were a couple of times they had it out in her room because he was backing out on a dance or something she’d been counting on him to attend with her. But she always forgave him. 

Now, in his defense, he didn’t do such things out of lack of concern for her or because he didn’t want to be in her company. He cared a great deal for that woman. But as I’ve already noted, he wore a badge that held him tightly in his grip and it wouldn’t let go. And truth be told, he liked that badge. He liked his job and the responsibilities that came with it. From time to time he’d say he didn’t, but he did. He didn’t want to be a store clerk or a rancher or farmer or anything else that would keep him tied down 6 days out of 7. That included being a husband, even to Kitty.

I think a part of Kitty knew that about him. She understood the wildness in him better than maybe he did even. And she loved him anyway. That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have married him, given the chance. But Kitty understood why she’d never get the chance. It was hard on her, but like all the other tough times that came her way, she accepted it and kept going.

Until she couldn’t.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Kitty Russell and Matt Dillon spent a lot of time together when they could. When the Marshal was in town, he and his lady would have a drink together at the saloon, or dinner at Delmonico’s or just a quiet talk in her office. Now everyone in town knew, or at least suspected, that they did more than talk in her office as well as up in her room. But the Marshal and his woman kept that part of their relationship completely out of the public eye. The public was content to leave it that way.

And it stayed that way for a number of years. The two fell into a sort of routine. He would get up every morning, regardless of where he’d spent the night, pin on his badge and go out to do his job. She would get up every mid-morning, get dressed and go down to her saloon to do her job. He would occasionally take trips out of town, chasing some outlaw, taking one to Hays, picking one up or just delivering papers of some kind or other. 

She would occasionally take trips out of town, usually for shopping or maybe to see friends. Neither one needed to see each other daily in order to survive. But neither one could go for very long without at least thinking of the other. When apart for extended periods of time, they would get antsy to see and be with the other to the point to where it was almost unbearable.

But the time when they would have to be apart, and permanently, did come. Marshal Dillon had taken a prisoner up to Hays to be hanged and was gone an entire week before his shadow finally filled the doors of the saloon again. Quickly taking a look around, as though to test the waters, he finally pushed through the doors and over to where his heart stood at the end of the bar, working on her books while keeping an eye on her customers.

“Well, hello there, Cowboy.” She smiled up at him, her eyes telling him just how much she’d missed him. “When did you get back?”

“Just now.” He tipped his hat politely and leaned down on the bar next to her, resting his legs and back while settling his eyes on her appreciatively. “How’s things been going here?”

“Well,” she shrugged and looked around. “I’m still in business. How about you? How was your trip?”

“Ah, the same.” He shrugged. “Just glad it’s over and I’m home.”

“Me too.” She grinned. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll treat you to dinner tonight, if you’d like. Maybe uh,” she took an obvious look around before returned her sultry gaze back to him. “Maybe I could cook and we have dinner in my room?”

“Now _that_ sounds like a plan.” He grinned back at her, his mind already planning the evening.

But no sooner did he agree, than Barney, from the telegraph office, came rushing into the saloon. “Marshal! Thought I’d find you in here. I got an urgent telegraph for you.”

Dropping her head with a sigh, Kitty said nothing as she, with growing disappointment, watched Matt read the wire. He didn’t have to say it. She knew she’d be spending another night alone.

“Barney, send a reply.” Matt said resignedly. “Tell them, I’ll be heading out within the hour.”

“Sure thing, Marshal.” Barney nodded his bald little head and turned, hurrying out of the saloon.

Matt looked at Kitty for a second before regretfully lowering his head and his eyes. “Kitty, I’m sorry. I…”

“Where to?” She asked with a tight control of her emotions and tone.

“Garden City.” He answered with a sigh. “Have to pick up a prisoner. They’re afraid they can’t keep him. Must have some friends looking to break him out. Guess, I’ll have to miss that dinner. But look, when I get back, I’ll take you out to supper.”

“Sure.” She forced a smile on her trembling lips. “Be careful, huh?”

“I will.” He nodded as he straightened. “See ya later, Kitty.”

Kitty said nothing, dropped her head, and made herself swallow the grief of it. Finally, squaring her shoulders, she raised her head and closed her books with a snap. “Sam, I’ll be in my office, if you need me.” She nodded to her bartender and turned, going back to her small sanctuary in the back of the saloon, where she could cry if she needed to without being seen or heard.

She, of course, didn’t cry. She did curse, quietly, and she did manage to throw her books on her desk with a satisfying thud. But she didn’t cry. She saw no need to cry over something she had no control over.

Matt was disappointed too, and irritated and frustrated and wholly unhappy about having to ride out of town before he’d barely gotten home. But it never occurred to him to say no or send one of his deputies to do the job or even to request the Sherriff of Garden City to do it himself. It was his job. And despite the detriment to his love life, he was bound and determined to do it.

He had just arrived in Hays, with his prisoner, when the Sherriff handed him a wire that’d been waiting on him. Matt swallowed hard and took a deep a breath when he read the contents. “Sherriff, I’ve got to head out right away. If there’s any paperwork or anything, I’ll take care of it later.” He didn’t wait for a reply as he was already out the door.

The ride back to Dodge was exhausting for both his horse and himself. But he refused to let either one rest til he reached his destination. Over and over, his mind revolved around the few words on the telegraph.

“COME SOONEST. KITTY SHOT.”

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

He had no idea how or why or who did it and it didn’t matter. He just had to get there to her.

The streets of Dodge were quiet when he finally arrived. The Long Branch was shuttered and dark. Other saloons were open but he heard no raucous noise coming from them. No shouts or whoops assailed his ears as he rode past. The town seemed draped in dark, brooding sadness. The wind had come up, as he rode down Front Street, bringing with it cold air, but he scarcely noticed. His mind wasn’t on the weather.

The light was on in Doc’s office and before he could get halfway up the stairs, the door opened and Doc stood inconsolably at the doorway.

“Doc?” He questioned but one look at Doc’s face and he asked nothing more. She was lying on Doc’s table, still and quiet, her face as beautiful in death as it had been in life. He wanted to cry, or throw something or curse the fates. He did none of that. Instead he walked in softly, approached her and looked down. Her complexion had always been pale but never this unsightly white. The blue eyes that had always twinkled, when she looked at him, were closed, no more to shine.

“A young fella come into the Long Branch two days ago.” Doc was saying, his voice heavy with grief and yet seemingly in the distance somewhere. “Said he was looking for you. Something about you taking his pa’s ranch. When he was told you were out of town, he pointed his gun at Kitty and just… He just shot her. Not too many people were around at the time. It was late. Halligan saw it happen. He was there but… well. Sam was down in the cellar. He ran upstairs when he heard the shot but the man got away before anyone could stop him. Festus was out of town somewhere. He lit out after the kil… man as soon as he got back. He’s not returned yet.”

Matt gave no sign of heeding Doc’s story, so absorbed was he in looking at Kitty, yet he heard every word. 

“She held on as long as she could, Matt.” Doc told him. “She tried. She… She just… lost too much blood and… she couldn’t hold on any longer. She was conscious for a while before…” He stopped. Right then, no power on earth could get Doc to say that the woman he thought of as family had died. He swallowed hard before continuing. “She told me she had a box in her room at the Long Branch. Said it was to go to you. I don’t know what’s in it. She just kept saying to give it to you. I had Sam fetch it over here. It’s there on my desk.”

Matt nodded but didn’t move from where he stood. He felt rooted to the ground beside her. His thoughts and emotions were in a tumult and he doubted they would ever settle down.

Doc studied him for a moment before finally turning, grabbing his jacket and hat and leaving. He needed to stop by Percy Crump’s and make some arrangements but not right then. Right then, he needed a drink and Matt needed to be with her alone. Later, the two of them would grieve for her together, but not now. Not yet.

Matt stood for a long time before taking the box from Doc’s desk and pulling a chair up next to the table. Reaching out, he took Kitty’s cold hand into his for a moment, trying to gather what little strength she could still offer to open the box. Finally, taking a deep breath, he opened the box and looked inside astonished at what he saw.

Kitty had never been one to keep secrets, especially not from him and she’d never been the type, or so it seemed, to have need of a treasure box. But surely that was exactly what he held in his hands. Studying her beautiful face for a moment longer, he finally took a deep breath and examined the items in the box.

There was an envelope at the top, addressed to him in her fine, bold handwriting. Plucking the missive from the box, he held it in his hands for a moment, before setting it aside, not yet having the courage to open it. Beneath the letter, there were two locks of hair, both bound with ribbon. For a moment he puzzled at that until he remembered when old Crow Bait Bob had given her such a treasure box and she’d claimed the lock of hair it had held. 

He also remembered a night when he and she were in her room and she’d clipped a lock of his hair for her own. Impulsively, Matt set the box down, reached into Doc’s bag, and pulled out a pair of small scissors. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over and clipped a lock of Kitty’s hair and placed it into his vest pocket.

Laying the scissors aside, Matt picked up the box again, seeing a folded piece of paper with a date on it. Picking up the paper, he found a faded wildflower pressed inside. He looked again at the date and suddenly remembered the first picnic he’d ever taken her on. It had been spring and there were wildflowers growing all along the creek side. He remembered picking one and handing it to her with a deep bow, relishing the smile she’d given him in return. To him it had been a trifle, a throw away gift meant to temporarily charm a pretty girl. He hadn’t realized it had meant so much more to her.

Under that he found a couple of broken broaches, cheap trinkets bought when he had little to no money and a need to give her something for some occasion or other or an apology for missing one of those occasions. A fleeting smile lit his face as he remembered one of those times and her response. It had been something akin to a child who’d been given all the candy in the store for her very own.

There were other things in there, some he recognized and some he didn’t. But none of them were of consequence. 

Replacing all but the envelope, Matt sat quietly, holding it in his hands, as he stared at Kitty, willing her to open her eyes and smile at him or glare at him for leaving or… or something, anything. She didn’t. She continued to lie there, unmoving and uncaring that his heart and soul were torn into shreds.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

He lost track of how much time had passed since he’d entered. Doc hadn’t come back, or at least, if he had, Matt didn’t notice. Of course, he hadn’t really noticed when he’d left. The envelope sat like a heavy thing in his lap, both demanding to be opened and begging him not to. Whatever it contained, Kitty had wanted him to read it. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Logically or not, accepting the envelope felt tantamount to accepting her death. He wasn’t quite ready to do that.

“Marshal?”

Matt sat unmoving, intently studying her face.

“Marshal?”

Matt jerked and looked towards the door to see Burke standing there. “What do you want, Burke?” His voice was gruff, anguished and angry that he’d been disturbed.

“Uh, Festus just came back. He, uh…” Burke swallowed hard as he tried not to stare at Kitty. “He said he found the tracks of that fella that… that… uh…”

Matt suddenly got to his feet, his movement so swift and violent the chair flew back from him. “Tell Festus I’ll meet him at the stable.” He stuffed the envelope in his pocket to be looked at later. Not then. Not when there was something to do.

“Yes, Sir.” Burke nodded and turned away; glad to be out of the office that held such tragedy.

“And Burke.” Matt stopped him before he left. “Stop by my office, if ya will. Get my saddle bags, take em by the mercantile and have Jonas fill em.”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded again and hurried away.

Matt took a deep, ragged breath and stared down at Kitty. “I’ll get him, Kitty.” He whispered. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get him.” Forcing his grief into check, Matt bent down and softly kissed her lips for the last time before slowly raising the sheet and covering her face. Matt started to leave but stopped at the door. Turning, he picked up a pencil and a piece of paper from Doc’s desk and quickly scribbled something on it before he turned and left the office. 

Doc saw him leave and purposely hid himself from view until Matt had descended the stairs and hurried off to the stable. He had his own grieving to do and, like Matt, he wanted to do it alone. Besides, he knew, even if he had of hailed Matt, there’d be no conversation. Matt was beyond that now. When Doc got back up to his office, he found a note from Matt resigning his job and asking Doc to send for a new Marshal.

Once Matt got to the stable, he wasted no time in helping Festus to finish saddling their mounts. “You sure it’s him.” He asked as he tightened his cinch.

“I’m sure.” Festus answered. “The feller what ki… done it rode out a here on a horse with a loose shoe on his off leg. Since it’s been so dang dry so daggummed long, it were hard to find them tracks but he made the mistake a heading down near the river. Tracks show real plain there and further. He’s a headin’ south, prolly towards Mexico.” Festus stopped and turned his coat collar up. “Course, the way it feels, we may be a trackin’ him through snow afore long. The weather’s a changing.”

“I don’t care about the weather.” Matt stated as he grabbed the reins and mounted his horse. “I got a man to find. Let’s go.”

They met Burke at the general store and he handed them both full saddlebags and fresh canteens of water. “Thank ye, Burke.” Festus nodded. Matt said nothing as he accepted his bags, slung them over his horse and rode off.

“Festus?” Burke stopped the hill man before he could follow Matt. “He gonna be alright?” He nodded towards Matt’s rapidly disappearing form.

Festus glanced at Matt and then looked back at Burke. “I don’t know, Burke. I jes don’t know.”

It didn’t take long for Festus to find the tracks again and the two moved quickly across the river and further south. 

“I figger he’s a holed up somewhere’s near Glass Mountains, Matthew.” Festus told him as they rode. “They ain’t much else down this way. Prolly stay there til the weather calms some and then light on out.”

Matt nodded, only half listening to Festus talk. He knew the area Festus was referring to. It wasn’t actually mountains at all. Instead it was a series of mesas and buttes down in Indian Nation that took its name from the sparkling crystals that covered their surface. Though not high, there were enough places in the depths of the area to hide in, if a man knew where to go. Matt still had no idea who it was that had done this but he intended to find out, even if it meant his life in the doing of it. Of course, at this point, his life didn’t matter much to him.

Festus watched his friend carefully as they rode. The loss of Miss Kitty was fearsome thing and one that needed to be and would be avenged. But he wasn’t sure that deed alone would be enough for the big man at his side. Matthew Dillon wasn’t one to talk about his feelings and he sure didn’t speak of such things as love, but if Festus knew anything, he shorely knew that Matthew loved Miss Kitty with all he had. Though Festus hadn’t been around the couple for the number of years that Doc had, or some of the other town’s people, he'd learned in just his one year’s tenancy the way things were between them.

“Festus, there’s a small creek not too far from here.” Matt pointed a little to the east of them. “We’ll stop there and water the horses before we go any further.”

“Alright, Matthew.” Festus nodded and steered Ruth in that direction. He knew this part of the country as well as Matthew did but except for when it came to tracking, he was willing to let Matt lead. Even if it meant he led them into hell.

The stop for water was a brief one and before long they were back on their mounts and headed on. Neither man said much. There wasn’t much needed saying. They had a man to catch, retribution to distribute, pain to salve with action and revenge.

They rode that day until it was too dark to go on and their mounts were beginning to stumble out of exhaustion. With unspoken agreement, they found a place to stop and wearily set up a small camp. Few words were exchanged and little attention was given to their own comforts. But their mounts were fed, watered and rubbed down before the two men settled down for a restless, sleepless night, to wait til dawn so that they could continue on.

By the second day, Festus was pretty sure the calm, rational and utterly ethical Marshal Dillon had taken a leave of absence, to be replaced by a silent, brooding man bent on exacting vengeance on the man who’d murdered Miss Kitty. But Festus didn’t care. He felt the same way his ownself. When someone did fer those ya loved, ya did fer them.

They got to the Glass Mountains area about dusk, three days after they started out. Festus suggested they camp for the night, as it was too dark to canvas such a rugged area and actually find anything. Matt didn’t want to wait. 

“Matthew, ya got to listen to what I’m a tellin’ ya.” Festus argued. “They ain’t no way we kin see no tracks or nothing this late in the day. Sides, here in these hills, its all that shiny rock anyways. I got to have light to see if they’s any tracks about, don’t’ ya see.”

Matt studied the terrain for a few minutes than looked back at Festus. “Yes, but you need dark to see the light.” He said, as he started moving forward.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Matt moved steadily up the side of the nearest mound, Festus following close behind. Matt figured if the man he was looking for was there, he’d most likely have a fire going to keep warm for the night. All Matt and Festus needed to do was find that fire.

The mound of shiny, glass looking rock they climbed wasn’t high enough, so doggedly they climbed another and yet one more before they up above the surrounding area enough to see a far distance. The fire was there, deep in middle of the many mounds, flickering weakly but visible. 

Matt said nothing to Festus and didn’t need to as he fixed the spot in his mind and headed that direction. He had no doubts Festus would go with him. In the year he’d known him, he’d found him to be loyal, mostly honest and a man you could depend on in the toughest of times. But even if Festus had of been none of those and had refused to take one more step, Matt would’ve continued on. There was a man by that fire that he intended to kill.

The walk was hard and slow, the terrain too rough for riding. They didn’t stop, they didn’t talk, they kept walking. Each man had his own thoughts about what would happen once they reached their destination and each kept those thoughts to themselves. Things would play out as they would. Talking would not change it.

The fire was still going, though diminished when they reached it, dying, as Matt’s hopes for swift retribution was dying when he saw no one around the fire. Motioning to Festus to circle around to the left, Matt took to the right and cautiously approached the small, abandoned looking camp. No one was there. The fire was still consuming the last of a large amount of scrub oak that had been carried in from someplace and laid there but that was all. 

Angrily, Matt kicked out at the fire, scattering the last of it across the small area and desperately looked around, hoping against hope he would see the villain he was after. He saw nothing but Festus coming in with a shake of his head as he holstered his gun. 

“He ain’t here, Matthew.” Festus said solemnly. “Found a little trail over there. They’s tracks on it a leading south, prolly an hour or so old. Peers he was a leaving when we was a comin’ in.”

Matt nodded and looked down at the remnants of the fire. “He knew we’d come to the fire.” He looked back at Festus, “That trail out of here easier than our trail in?”

“Some.” Festus answered. “Flatter, leastways. You planning on followin’ now?”

“I am.” Matt nodded. “You’re not. It’s late, it’s cold and you’re tired. You stay here and camp for the night. I’ll keep following him. In the morning, you go on back to Dodge.”

“No, sir.” Festus shook his head with a scowl on his face. “I ain’t a gonna stay here and you take off like a chicken with his head cut off. No, sir. Not me. You go, I’m a goin’ with ya. Sides, way it feels, it’s likely to snow afore mornin’. I ain’t got no wish to be caught in these parts if it does. I know a shack a couple miles from here, kinda sheltered like. We kin go there.”

Matt didn’t want to go to shelter. He didn’t want to stop. He knew he’d not be able to rest. But his body was unwilling to listen to his mind. His body was about to drop and he knew if he didn’t at least try for some sleep, he’d not be physically able to go much further. And he also knew arguing with Festus about whether he should go or stay would accomplish nothing. “Alright, Festus.” He nodded. “Lead the way.”

The way out was longer than the way in but it was easier and both men were able to mount and ride out of the area. Conversation wasn’t necessary or wanted. They reached the small shed like structure well after the moon had reached its zenith. The shack had nothing to offer them other than a roof over their heads, a working fireplace and walls to block the wind, but as exhausted as they were, that was plenty.

After taking care of their horses and staking them in a small grove of trees, sheltered from the worst of the weather, Matt and Festus entered the cabin and tossed their blankets and saddles on the dirt floor.

“Matthew, I’ll take first watch.” Festus told him as he let a fire in the fireplace, fanning the flames to get it going. “I got me some thinkin’ to do right now and I ain’t likely to get no shuteye no how.”

Matt looked at his friend in the flickering firelight, seeing the esteem and concern Festus held for him. “You won’t stop me, Festus.” He said softly in a voice Festus had never heard before. “I will find him. If I have to go to the ends of the earth, I will find him. I will kill him. You can’t think of any way that will stop that.”

Festus looked down and nodded. “Aw foot, Matthew, I knowed that. And I cain’t say I’d do no different were it me. I jes don’t want you to do sumthin’ ya’d regret.”

“I won’t regret it.” Matt stated with no emotion.

Festus said nothing more as he sat beside the fire and watched Matt lie down and close his eyes. He doubted Matt’s mind would get much rest but hopefully his body would. 

They left the shack at dawn. Neither one spoke as they saddled up their animals and rode out. Breakfast was water from their canteens and hard biscuits from their saddlebags. It wasn’t that nourishing or even tasty but it was fuel for exhausted bodies so they ate it and rode on.

With the morning came gray clouds and a stronger wind with moisture to the air that promised snow before day’s end. Turning their coat collars up, they rode on. Shortly later, Festus found their first sign of tracks for the man they were after. 

“Matthew, peers he’s a still headin’ south. Horse is a goin’ slower though. Mayhap he’s lost that shoe.”

Matt studied the ground. He was a pretty good tracker himself and he could see the shorter gate of the tracks, indicating a slower pace but he wasn’t sure the rider was still with the horse. “Festus, do those tracks look as deep to you as they did?”

Festus took another look at the tracks, mentally measuring their depth before looking up at Matt. “No.” He said as he got up and headed to his mule. Grabbing Ruth’s reins, he turned the mule and started back up the road. “Don’t know why I didn’t see it afore.” He mumbled angrily to himself. “Ain’t no telling how far we been a followin’…”

“Festus, stop.” Matt called to him. “Stop.”

Festus turned and looked at him. “Matthew, we gotta find where he got off that there animal. We do and…”

“We don’t.” Matt said as he moved towards his friend and extended his hand. “This is where we part, Festus. If he’s on foot, then he’s likely going to be easier to find. And when I do find him…”

Festus ignored his hand and looked back up Matt with a glare. “She weren’t jes your’n, Matthew. She claimed a part a all a us. Now, Ol’ Doc and Sam and such cain’t be here. But I can and I’m a stayin’ til we ketch this feller. What happens after that I don’t care. But I’m a stayin’ for me and them. And don’t you try a sendin’ me off again. I ain’t a goin’ and that’s it!”

Matt’s eyes widened and then dropped. He understood then that Festus wasn’t there just to support him. Festus was there on his own account as well as Doc’s and everyone else in town that had cared about Kitty Russell. He was there to see to it that even if Matt failed, her murder would still be answered for. Though Matt was still determined to be the one to take care of the man that killed Kitty, a slight weight suddenly fell from his shoulders as he realized, that no matter what, Kitty would be avenged.

“We’re wasting time, Festus.” He smiled gratefully at his partner. “He might be on foot, but he’s probably still moving. Let’s go.”

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Snow had started falling before they finally found where their prey had dismounted and sent his horse away. Footsteps were leading in an easterly direction. 

“Wonder why he’s a heading back that a way.” Festus puzzled. “Ain’t nothing that a way that I know of and it shore ain’t the way to Mexico. You got any idees?” He looked over at Matt who was still studying the ground.

Finally Matt looked back up, his blue eyes looking around at where they were before finally nodding. “Think I do, Festus. There’s a ranch over that way. I remember having to come down here a few years ago to serve papers on a family who lost the land. I…” Matt suddenly stopped and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Festus, I think I know who we’re after.”

“Who?” Festus asked.

“His name is Harris. That’s his last name anyway. His pa owned a place due east of here. He, uh, lost it though. I don’t remember the circumstances exactly. They didn’t have any lawman assigned to this territory at the time so they sent me. I remember John Harris cussing me out and declaring that I was killing him by making him leave. He had a son, must’ve been about 15 or so. When I showed them off that place, they both were cussing me and threatening me. I didn’t pay them much mind then cause nothing came of it. I heard John Harris killed himself later but…” Matt shrugged.

“Well, it’s come to somethin’ now.” Festus sighed. “You know this place well, do ya?”

Matt shook his head. “I think I can find it but I didn’t spend much time around down here so I don’t know the ranch that well. I don’t even know what happened to the place. Somebody could be living there now and we might be wrong about where this guy’s headed.”

“Mite’s don’t fly in this kind a weather.” Festus grunted as he got up on Ruth. “We’d best be goin’.”

Nothing more needed to be said as they headed on.

Matt’s memory proved right and unerringly he led them straight to the ranch. It was abandoned, overgrown, buildings falling in on themselves. The split rail fence that used to surround the front yard of the house and made up the corral by the barn was dismantled in spots and the rails that remained were splintered and rotted. Shutters besides the windows were hanging by one hinge, if they were hanging at all. But of course, it mattered not if they were attached or not as most of the windowpanes were shattered and gone. The front door was still solid looking and stood open as though in welcome to visitors that would never come again. If there were such things as ghosts they would live here.

Matt and Festus held back from the entrance, hiding themselves in some overgrown bushes outside the gate.

“Festus, if he’s in there, he’ll be looking for us.” Matt nodded towards the house. “He’s probably in the house, but we can’t take a chance on it. He could be in that barn. Either one would give him a good shot at anyone riding in.”

“I reckon yer right about that, Matthew.” Festus nodded. “Best we split up, circle around and try em both at once.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.” Matt looked around as he spoke, trying to see a way to approach both buildings. Finally spotting a place he pointed to a grove of saplings that had grown close to the side of the barn and partially around the back. From there, both men could get close enough to both buildings to make a safer attempt on them.

“Come on.” Matt motioned. Tying the reins of their animals to the bushes, Matt and Festus crept quickly yet quietly around through the tall weeds and bushes until the reached the small growth of new trees. Matt nodded towards the barn as he raised his gun and readied himself. Festus gave him a tip of the head and did the same. With a silent count of three, both men rose and raced to their respective buildings.

Matt jumped across the rotting porch and threw himself in through the front door prepared to fire at his first of sight of anyone.

There was no one there. Hurriedly, gun raised and finger on the trigger, Matt went from room to room. The house was empty, void of all sign of life for many years, except for what looked like recent ashes in the fireplace. He’d just checked the last room and taken a deep breath when he heard two shots followed by the sound of a horse running hard. Instantly, Matt ran from the house and raced towards the barn. As ran, he saw a horse practically flying towards the south. He knew who it was and though tempted to speed after him, he didn’t. Festus was his first priority.

Festus was leaning against the barn wall, holding tightly to his shoulder a look of extreme pain on his face. He looked grievously at Matt when he came in. “I… I didn’t see em, Matthew.” Festus grimaced. “He… was… behind me. He… shot me and… ran.” Festus’ grip on consciousness left him and he fell forward into Matt’s arms.

Matt laid Festus carefully on the floor of the barn and stood, taking a ragged breath. He was torn. He couldn’t leave Festus there to die and yet he wanted more than anything to run right that second, hop onto his horse and chase the man who’d killed Kitty. Chase him, catch him and kill him. Closing his eyes and letting out the air he’d taken in, Matt bent next to Festus, assured himself he was still breathing and then ran from the barn.

Collecting their mounts, Matt swiftly brought them into the barn and tethered them long enough to pick Festus up and get him up onto Ruth. Festus came to as Matt got him into the saddle but Matt knew he would stay conscious. “Festus, hang on. I’m going to get you to some help.”

“Mat…thew, that… yahoo… he… he’ll get away.” Festus tried sitting tall but the pain wouldn’t let him.

“No, he won’t, Festus.” Matt answered as he threw a rope around Festus and secured him to his saddle. “No, he won’t.”

Matt knew of a small trading post northeast of where they were and he headed there straight away. A couple of hours after he arrived, he found himself pacing in front of the fire at the trading post, while the owner’s wife worked on Festus. She wasn’t a doctor, but there wasn’t a doctor anywhere in the area. However, she did know some medicine and promised to do her best.

“Marshal?” Margaret Doyle smiled as she came out to where he was.

Matt didn’t tell her he’d resigned. “Ma’am? He going to be alright?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I believe he will. The bullet was deep and he did lose an awful lot of blood, but with the proper rest and care, he will be fine.”

Matt nodded. “Well… well, I’m glad to hear that, Ma’am. Uh, will it be alright if he stays here til he’s able to ride?”

“Of course.” She answered. “My husband and I would welcome you both.”

“Oh, well, I appreciate that, Mrs. Doyle but… uh, well, I still have a man to catch. The one shot Festus has got to be stopped. So, I won’t be staying.”

“Well, we understand that, Marshal.” Isaac Doyle spoke as he came up from behind his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You just go on if ya have to. We’ll take care of your deputy.”

“Alright, thank you.” Matt tipped his head to the two. “Uh, will you tell…my deputy that I… Well, no need. He’ll know.” Matt snugged his hat down on his head and turned and left.

While Matt had been inside, the Doyle’s son, Simon, had fed, watered and wiped down Matt’s horse, so he had nothing more to keep him there. Taking a deep breath, he mounted Buck, turned and rode away. He had no real idea of where to look for the man he sought, other than south. That was his direction.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Returning to the old ranch, he picked up the tracks of the horse that had left in haste. He wanted to follow but decided to let it go for the night. The snow had stopped and Matt was pretty sure it wasn’t going to start again. But the wind had picked up even more and it was going to be a cold night. He knew that with no additional snowfall to cover the tracks, he’d most likely be able to pick them up in the morning and easily follow them. 

He decided to spend the night at the ranch and hopefully get some rest so he’d be fresh in the morning. Riding back onto the ranch, he rode straight to the barn to take care of his horse first thing. Thinking of his horse, he wondered where young Harris, if it was indeed him, got his. He was positive that he’d sent his own, limping steed away from him. So where did he get another? 

Matt was still turning that thought over when he led Buck into the first stall and found the owner of the other horse. He was lying face down, blood on the back of his head and on his shoulder. He wore the clothes of a buffalo hunter so he doubted he belonged in this area. Most likely he was hunkering down in the house, hiding from the storm when Harris found him. That would explain the recent ashes in the fireplace. Sighing and with a shake of his head, Matt dragged the dead man to the back of the barn and laid him down, covering with an old blanket and lots of hay. It wasn’t a burial but it would have to do.

Warily, he went back to the front of the barn, tended to his horse then went back to the house. There was firewood already stacked next to the fireplace and it didn’t take him long to get a fire going. After retrieving a can of beans, and the makings for a pot of coffee, Matt fixed his supper and then leaned back wearily against the old couch that had been left in the house. 

The beans held no taste and the coffee tasted like mud but he forced it down anyway. His soul and his mind wanted a different kind of nourishment, the kind that only Kitty could’ve given him. But she was gone and if he wanted to catch her killer he needed to keep his body going. So he ate without enjoyment and then lay down, hoping for sleep if not rest. 

He got neither one for a long while. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Kitty lying so still on Doc’s table, the life gone from her beautiful expressive face. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the envelope from her box and held it up to the firelight, tracing a finger over his name written by her hand. Opening the flap of the envelope, he gripped the paper inside and was close to pulling it free and reading it. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He had something to do first. Putting two fingers into his vest pocket, he pulled out the lock of her hair and placed it into the envelope. He then folded it and put it back into his pocket, closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless, restless sleep.

He woke up stiffly the next morning, and for a moment the grief of the last few days was gone and forgotten. Turning his head, he expected to see Kitty lying peacefully beside him. She wasn’t there and the realization hit him hard that she never would be again. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up. The fire was almost completely out but he managed to stir enough embers to reheat last night’s coffee. He couldn’t force himself to eat anything.

While the coffee heated, Matt went out to the barn, saddled Buck and brought him back to the house. Going back inside, he drank his coffee, put his pot and cup into his bags and turned, leaving the house and it’s ghosts behind. Well, all but one ghost. He knew he would never be able to leave her behind.

“Well, old boy.” Matt sighed as he patted Buck on the nose before throwing his bags atop of him and mounting. “Let’s go catch a killer.”

Matt was right. It hadn’t snowed again in the night, which made it easy for him to pick up Harris’ tracks and follow them in yesterday’s snow. The tracks, as Festus had predicted, led ever southward, though not a straight path. Matt may not have been as good a tracker as Festus, but he was good enough to know that Harris was meandering a bit. His pace had slowed down and he wasn’t sticking completely to the trail south. Pulling up sharply on the reins, Matt stopped to think about that.

It could be that he thought himself in the clear and didn’t care or it could be that he was wounded, which would make the tracking and catching of him all the easier. Matt picked up his pace to see which it was.

By noon he’d found the horse; he’d been tracking, in a small town close to the Texas border, snugged up to a hitching post outside the hamlets only saloon. Slowly, he rode up to the rail, dismounted, tied up his horse, pulled his coat back from his gun and walked to the doors of the bar. Much as they had been at the Long Branch, the bat wing doors were latched open and the wooden doors were closed to the cold outside. With the windows covered over by heavy curtains, Matt couldn’t see in. Dropping his hand to his gun, he opened the doors and entered.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

The saloon was quiet, when he walked in, full of men who mostly just wanted to get out of the cold. There were three men lined up at the bar and two at a table in the back, half empty bottle on the table in front of them, which matched the empty expressions on their faces. Matt squared his shoulders as he walked in and made no attempt to disguise his purpose.

“I’m looking for a man named Harris.” He said loudly, glaring at each man in turn, showing no softness. “His horse is hitched outside.”

All heads turned towards him but no one claimed the name of Harris. 

“What do you want with him?” A soft feminine voice asked from the shadows in the corner.

Matt turned and saw a young woman walking towards him. Though she was blond and short and looked nothing at all like Kitty, his heart skipped a beat. For a second, his mind went back years earlier to when Kitty had been a saloon girl and had more than once spoke up when someone was looking for him. Giving himself a mental shake, he swallowed hard.

“I’ve come to kill him.” He said evenly and with no inflection in his voice. “Where is he?”

The girl, for after a closer look he could tell that’s all she was, looked him up and down before speaking. “You the law?”

“No.” Matt answered truthfully. He saw her eyes flit to the door and without blinking, Matt drew his gun and turned, ready to fire. 

An old man was coming into the saloon, swaying on unsteady legs, pulling his threadbare coat tightly around his thin frame, he blinked at the darkened interior and moved over towards the bar, giving Matt a curious look.

Matt took a deep breath, and turned back. Glancing at the girl, he scanned the room completely, seeing no one that could possibly be the man he sought. He started to go back out and search the streets when the girl moved close and touched his sleeve, causing a shiver to go down his spine. Kitty was usually the only one that did that.

“Buy me a drink, Mister?” She implored.

Matt shook his arm free. “That depends. You know where Harris is?” He could see by the look on her face that she did, but most probably wasn’t going to tell him. “Uh, huh.” He shook his head and turned, leaving the saloon, wondering how a woman could love a man so much she’d give her very life for him.

Matt paused when he reached the boardwalk and looked around. The horse he’d followed into town was gone. For the first time in days, Matt genuinely smiled. He was going to have this boy before nightfall, or die trying.

Grabbing the reins of his horse, Matt quickly climbed into the saddle and rode out of town, following the tracks he’d followed in. He didn’t turn to look back at the saloon; he didn’t need to. He knew for a certainty that the young saloon girl was standing at the door watching him leave with a dread and grief knowing her man would soon die.

Matt, though beyond exhausted, kept his eye on the ground he continued following the tracks, moving faster when he could, slowing down only when necessary. But as certain as he’d been that he would soon have Kitty’s murderer in his gun sights, he’d been wrong. Somehow, the young man had eluded him again. Matt continued forward.

As he continued ever southward, he noticed the weather was getting warmer. It did little to soothe his temper or soul but it made traveling easier, even as it made tracking harder. But Matt Dillon was a determined man if nothing else. He had set a task before himself and he was not going to quit until he’d accomplished it.

He stopped that night by a small creek. After tending to his horse’s needs, he threw his saddle on the ground, lay down and slumped against it. He wasn’t hungry and he’d already slaked his thirst at the creek. Pulling his hat low on his forehead, he crossed his arms against his chest and closed his eyes. But it wasn’t sleep he was seeking. It was a dream.

He woke the next morning, grainy eyed and muscle sore but relentlessly determined to carry on. After drinking his fill of water from the creek and chewing on the last of the jerky he had, Matt saddled up and rode on. Matt rode through that day and the one after that followed by another and another. He’d long since lost any sight of tracks and was going on instinct more than anything.

As used to hardship as he was, Matt had to concede to his body’s needs and stop on the occasion to eat and rest. When he ran out of funds, he would hunt for what he needed. If he found nothing, he would find a town or farm or ranch where he could secure a few days work for enough money to continue on. He didn’t need much, so he didn’t stay long in any one place. He had a goal and he wouldn’t stop until he reached it.

For three months and then four followed by a fifth, Matt roamed from one place to another looking for a young man who’d almost become a ghost. He’d come close to catching him in a small boarder town called Sage, missing him only by a day. But close, wasn’t close enough. Staying in Sage only long enough to replenish his supplies, Matt pressed on.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Matt reined Buck in at the top of a small knoll overlooking a large, apparently prosperous ranch. He’d passed through a small town called Landford about a week after he’d left Sage. Harris, it seemed, didn’t want to go Mexico after all. Once he’d come close to the border, he’d veered back north and west. Matt had no idea why and he didn’t care.

All he cared about was that young Harris was supposed to be working at this ranch and if he was, Matt was going to find him and kill him. “Come on, Buck.” He urged his horse forward. “Let’s get this finished.”

Matt wasn’t blind to the eyes that watched him ride in and he wasn’t deterred by the men that moved towards their weapons. He continued on in, ignoring all but his goal of the ranch house. Hopefully whoever was there would tell him where to find Harris. If not, it wouldn’t matter. Matt would still find him.

After stopping at the hitch rail, Matt dismounted and loosely tied Buck’s reins before stepping up onto the porch. His knock was quickly answered by a sour faced older man who stared at Matt with a glare. “What do you want?”

“I heard you have a boy working here by the name of Harris.” Matt answered evenly with no preamble. “I want him.”

“You must be Dillon.” The old man grunted. “The boy said you’d be coming.”

Matt didn’t let his surprise show. “Just tell me where he’s at.”

“The boy didn’t tell me what he done to ya.” The older man stalled. “He rob a bank or something?”

Matt quickly drew his gun. “Tell me where he’s at and maybe he’ll be the only one to die today.”

The old man’s eyes widened. “You get out of here, Dillon.” He demanded. “Leave that boy alone. You’ve hounded him enough over nothing. Ain’t nothing that boy coulda done to deserve you chasing him to hell and back.”

Matt stepped close and placed the gun against the old man’s chest. “He murdered the woman I love in cold blood. She did nothing to him and had no part in anything I ever did. That boy’s a coward who shot an innocent woman in revenge for something she didn’t do. Did he tell you that? Did he tell you he shot a buffalo hunter in the back and stole his horse? Huh? Did he?”

The old man paled and dropped his head for a second. “I… I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me. He’s my sister’s boy. He just said you robbed his pa of his ranch and was wanting to finish him to keep his mouth shut.” He looked back up at Matt. “I can see the truth in your eyes, Mister. I don’t recon you’re lying.” He ran a shaky hand down his face. “He’s out to the barn, hiding the hayloft. “I ain’t gonna hide no killer, kin or no.”

Matt studied the man closely. He didn’t believe him. Reaching out, Matt grabbed the old man’s arm and drew him forward, putting him in front of him with his gun the old man’s temple. “Call him.” He demanded. “If you meant what you said, call him.”

To his credit, the old man didn’t flinch or try to evade the tall man holding him by the scruff of the neck. Instead, he looked up towards the barn, raising his voice to be heard. “Johnny! Johnny Boy! You best come on out now. This man’s gonna kill me if you don’t.”

“No!” A sullen voice replied. “He’s here to kill me. It wasn’t bad enough he killed my pa, now he’s after me.”

“I didn’t kill your pa, boy.” Matt growled in response. “I just did my job and pushed him off a place he didn’t own.”

“He was gonna own it!” Johnny replied. “He just needed time but you wouldn’t let him have it. You just the same as killed him.”

“Johnny!” The uncle spoke up. “What about you? Did you kill a woman in Dodge?”

“She was a whore!” The insolent punk yelled back. “She didn’t matter. My pa did though. My pa mattered!”

Matt was holding himself together by the thinnest of thread. He was tempted to push the old man out of the way and rush the barn, firing as he went. But he knew he’d be cut down before he could gain a yard. So he stood, silent and still looking for just the right chance. Unwittingly, the stringy haired kid with the smirk gave it to him.

“Johnny!” The older man yelled again. “You can’t get by this any more. Now you killed someone and you gotta pay. Come down out of there, now!”

“NO!” Johnny yelled back as he rose up in the small window of the barn loft and began firing.

Matt managed to shove the uncle out the line of fire before throwing up his own gun and returning lead for lead. Harris proved to be harder to get at then Matt thought but even the best will have a moment of carelessness at one time or another. And Harris had just that moment as he rose again from cover and aimed square at Matt’s chest.

The bullet was swift and well-aimed and it hit its mark. Matt felt the missile as it entered his chest and worked its way deep into his body. But mere pain couldn’t vanquish the hate in Matt’s soul and grievously wounded though he was, he didn’t drop. Instead, he sited the boy at the end of his own gun and began firing, continuing even after he saw the kid fall from the loft to land on the dirt ground below.

Clutching his chest, knowing his moments were numbered, Matt somehow managed to walk over to where Johnny Harris lay. The boy’s head was at an unnatural angle and his shirt as well as the ground below him was saturated with his blood. But Matt still reached down and turned the kid over. It wasn’t until he saw the kid’s sightless eyes staring up at him that he was satisfied he’d avenged the death of the woman he loved.

“You killed him, Mister.” The uncle had regained his feet and walked over to where Matt still stood. “You killed him sure.”

Matt nodded. “I did. And he’s killed me.”

Before the older man could reply, Matt’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground. The last of his breath was used to utter one name. “Kitty.”

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Elizabeth sat with tears in her eyes as she listened to the story as told by her grandmother. “That’s the saddest thing I have ever heard, Grandma.” She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.

“It was.” The old woman nodded. “But I thought that’s what you wanted to hear.”

The girl nodded. “It was but I didn’t realize it would be ‘that’ sad. And it didn’t have the romance I thought it would.”

“Well, girl I can’t help what you thought it’d be or have, only what it was.” The older woman sat back in her chair, tired now from telling such a long-winded story.

“Grandma, can I ask you something else?” The girl asked after blowing her nose. “What ever happened to that envelope?”

“Envelope?” The elder woman’s forehead crinkled.

“Yeah, you know. The one that Miss Kitty left in her box for the Marshal. Did he ever read it?”

“Oh, yeah.” The old woman shook her head. “No, child. He never read it. Don’t guess he thought it was all that important, seeing as how he was set on meeting her again in the hereafter when it was all over. I guess that envelope must’ve been buried with him.”

Elizabeth nodded as she got to her feet. “I guess that was for the best.” She sighed. Leaning down, she kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “Thanks, Grandma, for the story.”

“Are you going to write that story?” Tired blue eyes looked up the younger version of her daughter.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I mean it’s true and definitely angsty and all. But…”

“But what?” The grandmother saw something in her granddaughter’s expression.

“But it seems so personal. I mean, I don’t think Miss Kitty and the Marshal would want their story told in some college paper. It deserves better than that.”

The old woman nodded with a smile. “That it does, young lady. That it does.”

Kissing her grandmother’s cheek yet again, Elizabeth took her leave and left the old woman to sit alone with her memories.

As Elizabeth left the room, she ran into her mother, Emma.

“Elizabeth?” Emma questioned when she saw the red eyes of her daughter. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom.” Elizabeth answered. “Grandma just told me a sad story is all. I’m okay.”

Emma nodded as her daughter hurried away and then stopped at her mother’s room to check on her. “Mom? I see Elizabeth was in here. Did you tell her the ‘story’?”

The old woman looked up at her red-headed daughter with a smile. “I did. She asked for it so I told her.”

“That didn’t tire you out too much did it?” Emma gently brushed a strand of white hair from her mother’s face, marveling at how, despite her advancing years, she still retained the beauty and strength of her younger days. “I mean, I know you like that story but…”

“No, no.” The older woman shook her head. “The story didn’t tire me. I’ve told it so much that it was no chore at all to tell it again.”

Emma nodded. “I still remember the first time you told me that story. I cried like a baby. I have to admit, when I found out it wasn’t true, I was awfully upset at you.”

The older woman smiled. “I know. You pouted for a week. But at the time I originally told you it was best that you didn’t know the truth and you believed that your father and I, or at least that Matt and Kitty, were dead.”

“I know. I know.” Emma agreed with Kitty. “And you were right to keep me in the dark at the time, but why tell that story at all? I mean, at least to me and now to Elizabeth. Any possible danger to you and papa has surely long since passed.”

“Has it?” Kitty questioned her daughter. “The last time I counted, there were at least a dozen men or more, still alive, who would love to claim Matt Dillon’s life as well as his loved ones. Now, they may be as old as we are but if they’re still able to do the things your father and I can do, then they’re still dangerous to us.”

“I guess you’re right, mom.” Emma shrugged.

“I am.” Kitty told her. “Until your father and I truly are in our graves, it’s best that everyone believe that story. Besides.” Kitty gave her daughter an impish grin. “I thought I did a really good job in making us into romantic heroes.”

Emma chuckled. “Oh, you did that, mom. You certainly did that.” Kissing her mother’s forehead, Emma turned and left the room, passing her father in the hallway as he came in from the barn. “How’s the new colt, Dad?” She gave him a quick hug.

“It’s fine, honey.” He smiled. “Almost as pretty as you.”

Emma smiled with a shake of her head and left as her father removed his hat and entered the room he shared with Kitty. Leaning down, he kissed his wife on the lips before sitting down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

Kitty said nothing as she watched him. He had something on his mind and she was waiting on him to tell it.

After removing his boots, Matt leaned back a little and then looked over at his wife of many years. “Kirk Reeves was out here earlier in that fancy horseless carriage of his. Not sure why he likes that belching noisy thing but…”

“Who’s after us now?” Kitty knew when he was trying to not tell her something.

“Who said anyone was after us?” Matt frowned, still amazed, after all these years, how well she could read him.

“You did by the way you’re acting.” Kitty a replied with an arched brow. “Besides, Kirk Reeves would not drive that infernal machine of his all the way out here on horrible roads if it wasn’t something important.”

Matt grinned for a moment before sobering. “Jace Kendal was released from prison a month ago. Kirk has no reason to believe he’s headed this way and he doubts he knows anything about us, but he wanted me to be aware of it anyway.”

Kitty sighed. “I told Elizabeth the story today, Matt. She said she needed a good story for some class she’s in at school. Emma asked me why I still told it and why I didn’t tell Elizabeth the truth.”

“I know, Kitty.” Matt nodded. “We can’t tell her. We took a chance when we told Emma. But we can’t tell anyone else or people like Kendal and worse will find us, even after all these years.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told Emma.” Kitty told him. “And that’s the best reason for it. But you want to know something?”

“What?” Matt asked curious as to what she was getting at.

“Aside from the fact that we both died in that story, I kinda like how heroic you are in it and how much you loved me in it. A woman always likes that in a man, ya know.”

“Oh, really?” Matt grinned as he bent over the chair and pulled Kitty up to her feet. “Is that all you want in a man?” He bent down and kissed her hungrily.

Kitty chuckled as she grabbed his hand and moved him back towards the bed. “Oh, no, Mister. That is most definitely NOT all I want from you.”

Early the next morning, after Matt had dressed and left for the barn, Kitty headed to the attic. The tale she’d given her granddaughter, the day before, hadn’t been a complete fabrication. Rummaging around in a large box in the back corner, Kitty finally pulled free a small chest. She hadn’t touched that little carton made of wood for some time, but the story reminded her of something.

Finding a chair to settle in, Kitty opened the chest and looked down at its contents. The broaches were still there as was the locks of hair and various other things, added over the years. But it wasn’t those things she wanted to look at. Digging down to the bottom, Kitty pulled out an old envelope, now yellowed with age, crimped and torn on the edges.

Opening the envelope, she pulled out the sheet of paper inside and opened it. Years ago, when the thought of dying at the hands of bandits or drunks or many other possible events, Kitty had written out a will and had Mr. Bodkin over at the bank notarize it. She’d left everything she had to Matt, with small considerations to Doc and at first Chester and then later Sam and Festus. For many years they had been her only family and she had wanted to make sure they were cared for should she die.

But thanks to some inventive story telling and a love that no one could kill, she didn’t die and the will was really no longer needed. The Long Branch was long gone now. Sam and Doc and Festus were gone as well. She heard that Chester had settled in California somewhere and gotten married, though she couldn’t be sure of it.

After reviewing the piece of paper for a moment longer, Kitty gripped the edges and tore it to pieces. In its place, in the envelope, Kitty placed a new piece of paper. On that paper was the story that she’d told her granddaughter the day before. Along with that, was the truth of things and how she and Matt really ended up. Whether anyone would ever read it or not, she didn’t know. But she knew it belonged there.

Closing up the chest, Kitty put it back where she’d found it, rose and left the attic. Up there was her past. Downstairs, with her family, was her present and there was no place on earth, she would rather be.

The End


End file.
